It’s been a year since the first 100 deaths occurred during the revolution at Maidan. Feels wrong calling it an “anniversary”, but I guess that’s what it is.
I knew there was an event at Maidan to commemorate this day and the events that happened a year ago, but I wasn’t inclined to go.
A little less than a year ago, when the revolution itself was all but over, Hellen and I went to Maidan to walk up the street where most of the deaths occurred, where people were shot down by snipers whose origins are still (it’s been a year) unknown.
While the revolution itself was happening, it felt surreal and distant. I saw the smoke grenades explode, smelt the teargas and the smoke from burnt tires, heard the yelling and banging, drove and walked passed the bodies of those first 100 on my way to and from work, and yet it all felt extremely distant; like I was seeing it all on a TV screen.
But that day, during that walk, I felt the emotional and psychological weight of what has happened. All the emotions and thoughts I was too numb to have for the past months stormed in — overwhelmingly sad.
Yesterday after work I spontaneously desided to go to Maidan. As I approached I could hear the voice of our President speaking. The speaker distorted, barely audible (at first) words took me back. All that was missing was the smoke and the sound of distant explosions.
I got to Maidan closer to the end of the President’s speech, catching only his promise to give his all to ending the conflict in the East of Ukraine and bringing our soldiers back home.
Then there was a minute of silence.
In that minute I felt the same tide of thoughts and emotions I had nearly a year ago at Institutska. The memories of what happened came flooding in, compounded with the stress and uneasiness that the war in the East was causing.
When you’ve got more than two years worth of anger, sadness, stress, and worry to feel in a minute, one minute seems like a very long time.
